fire
by helpthehorriblelovethelonely
Summary: an argument, 2 desperate and lonely souls, what happens when those souls collide, and after.
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were currently in the middle of a heated fight in the middle of an empty corridor.

"You self-centered spoiled brat!" Harry yelled at the blonde, Draco sneered at him

"You pathetic idiot with a hero complex the size of East Asia!" He yelled back. Their insults grew louder and louder and more severe. They stepped closer and closer to each other in their apparent anger, soon enough they were nose to nose, screaming in each other's faces.

They were seething, red faced and blazing eyes, suddenly the world stood still.

And they kissed.

Oh how they kissed. Lips collided in a passion, lighting their souls on fire and turning their blood to ice. Their minds raced with color and suddenly it wasn't just a kiss they were sharing. Suddenly the stars inside of their souls crashed in an explosion only meant to be felt by two in love.

But they weren't in love, they were desperate, oh so desperate for love that they crashed together, clutching at clothes and ignoring the screaming voice in the back of their heads. That voice that screamed at them every time they did something stupid, it was screaming at their idiotic and fruitless endeavors, oh how they ignored those screams.

Teeth collided as the kiss they shared grew more heated, and as the fire in their lonely lips grew in size and heat, the rest of their cold dead lives, evaporated.

And then there was fire.

The fire of their desperate hearts and burning blood. Fire raged on through them as their skin collided, tongues danced, and feelings multiplied. No longer were they gentle smoldering embers, tentative towards the touch of others. No, they were fire, fire sparked by the bane of their existence and fueled by the fury that they held. Fire that burned their hearts and their world to ashes.

But did they care? Oh no, the only thing they could think of was the howling of their lonely hearts, the heat from the others touch, and the ice chilling and freezing their souls.

They felt not the ground underneath them crumble; they felt not the evil desperate pain their chests begging for them to stop. They only felt the fire, and what they thought it meant.


	2. the death of an addiction

And then the fire died.

The fire died and all that was left was the adrenaline that saturated their bones. They were embodiments of loneliness and pain as their heart rates slowed and the fire they had become so addicted to disappeared.

the heat inside of their blood evaporated, they now felt the way the world crumbled with every step they took, they now felt the way their chests burned with desperate and falsely justified emotions, and if they had listened hard enough they would have been able to hear the echoes of the little voice in the back of their heads crying out for them to stop, before it had become too late.

But the little cricket that sits in the back of your head and screams at you when you do wrong, he was now tied and ball gagged in the farthest corner your brain possessed.

They looked at each other and saw only themselves reflected in the others appearance. Their eyes read death and their bodies screamed desperation. What was this life that they were living?

Their minds were destroyed by the blazing inferno, forcefully injected into their blood stream. They felt the head and suddenly it was all they ever wanted. But one day they woke up and their picture perfect life wasn't as beautiful as once perceived.

Dark circles littered the underside of their hallow eyes, the ones that used to laugh and dance in the noon day sun. Suicide was written on their skin, dark horrid words that could be read with just a simple glance. "the darkness of one's soul is determined not by trails life has taken them down, but by how they decide to learn from their advent-" they cut themselves off as they read the messages scrawled in invisible black ink, naked in pictures, but not to the mind's eye.

Suddenly their beautiful escape was nothing but a killer drug, willfully shoved into the blood stream at the prospect of a hand to hold and a shoulder to cry on.

Their beautiful inferno was snuffed out by the violent waves of reality crashing over them.

And they cried, oh how they cried. Their sobs raked across their bodies in restless shivers and shakes, destroying the little bit of security left in their brittle hearts. They cried alone, desperate to be rid of the presence of the one they had once shared a spark of understanding with, the one that started the fire that destroyed their lives with the flames that consumed them.

They had no more tears left to cry, no more words left to read, and no more fire left to warm up their lives. They were swamped with a hallow feeling that seeped into their bones, the burning ice of loneliness finding its way back home.


	3. A new addiction

Harry was sitting in his best friend's bedroom, a cup of tea shaking wildly in his hand as tears streamed down his face, unable to keep his emotions in any longer.

"Y'Know Hermione…." He whispered shakily, looking up at the bushy haired witch with a rueful smile. "Love is a dangerous thing, a drug, and one that should be illegal."

The witch looked at her best friends confused,

"Harry, what are you-?" she was saying when the raven haired young man cut her off, as if she hadn't spoken at all.

"At first it's something you enjoy, because it makes you smile and gives you these warm feelings in your belly. You notice the way people look at others, and you see the warmth that you feel in their eyes. And you smile more, because everybody is happy.

"But then it becomes more, you crave it whenever its away, you hate being around spiteful people because it makes you crave that love even more. Yet at the same time you are envious towards the people that have their love drug on hand.

"And then you have to stop, for whatever reason. And your wonderful drug is ripped from your hands, going from being in your hands to a million miles away. The look in your eyes is no longer warm and welcoming; instead it's cold and distant, filled with hate for anyone that comes your way."

He paused to smile at her again, that same pity inducing smile, the one that made your heart shatter as the beautiful young man showed all of his emotions in his eyes.

"Of course you still get love," he waved the hand that wasn't holding his still shaking yet empty tea cup. "from your mom or your friends, and for the most part that satisfies you, it allows you to live a normal life and feel like you are completely detached from your favorite drug, like you have finally beet your addiction.

"But sometimes it's not enough, and you find yourself going through horrible withdrawals. In case you were wondering the symptoms include:

Tightness in your chest

Watery eyes

The craving for anything sweet

The want to crawl into a blanket and never come out

Wanting to go to bed and never wake up"

He listed off, counting on his fingers, the tears that were streaming down his face were now harder, yet somehow he still managed to keep his voice pieced together. Hermione wondered how such a broken man could keep his voice stable, when his whole world was crumbling underneath him.

"And the world thing about this drunk known as love is that there is no rehab, no support groups, and everyone is trying to get their hands on it. Everyone is addicted and nobody wants to stop and get help.

But what help is there to get? You just have to cave, relapse, everybody does. And love with have you in its clutches yet again."

He looked back up at his best friend who was now sitting next to him on the overstuffed bed. He looked her in the eyes; his blood shut eyes seemingly to stare into her soul as he took her hands in his.

"Promise me Hermione… promise me that you'll never fall in love. Promise me that you'll never fall into my shoes," He begged, holding his friends hands tightly.

Unable to respond, Hermione pulled Harry into a tight hug, head under her chin and rocking him gently,

"I promise Harry, I promise," She whispered finally, but she didn't know whether she was promising not to fall in love, or promising to help him piece his heart back together.

As she held the crying figure close to her, she realized that she was promising the latter, and nothing was going to stop her from keeping that promise.


End file.
